


Not an Idiot

by WizardPendragon



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ficlet, Idiots, M/M, Sorry I can't choose one thing to hyperfixate on at a time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 12:38:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19812481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WizardPendragon/pseuds/WizardPendragon
Summary: Crowley's not an idiot, but he sure acts like one sometimes.





	Not an Idiot

“Friends?” Crowleys tongue curled around the word unpleasantly, like it was leaving a bad taste in his mouth, and Aziraphale gave him a little frown. 

“Yes, Crowley, friends. We’re going to a lovely little café down the road. They told me they have the most scrumptious biscuits.” Aziraphale puttered around the room, reshelving the books clutched in his arms, sparing Crowley a glance. He had a little frown pulling on his lips that Aziraphale would be tempted to call a pout, if he were going to dignify it with any real recognition. “We went there once before and you said the coffee was dreadful.” 

“It was dreadful.” Crowley’s reply was petulant at best. “I don’t mind though.” He clearly minds, but Aziraphale feigns ignorance, stepping to the next shelf and carefully positioning the copy of Dante’s Inferno between an original copy of War and Peace and a surprisingly new, brightly bound novel with a long title in French. “I was going to go pick up some new pots tonight anyways. Finally, some of the stubborn buggers are getting big enough.” 

“Well then, my dear, that’s just splendid. You’ve got gardening to do, and you don’t have to have coffee you’re not enjoying.” Aziraphale turned to Crowley with a smile, the kind that Crowley never really could argue against. 

“Just splendid.” Aziraphale pointedly ignored the mocking tone of Crowley’s echo and returned to his work, unphased. Crowley seemed to let it go as well, wandering off. Aziraphale didn’t take it too personally when Crowley changed yet another of his Wagner records to Queen and settled on the sofa with it playing just a smidge too loud behind him. 

***

This was where Aziraphale found him when he came through the door after his meal (which was wonderfully delectable, as he had hoped), still sprawled across the sofa though with a glass of wine in hand this time. Crowley looked to him, free hand lifting in a lazy wave. Aziraphale’s arms sat heavily crossed his chest until Crowley pushed himself up into more of an upright position, eyebrow arched. “What?” 

“I’m not an idiot.” Surprised by the firmness in the other’s tone, Crowley set the wine aside, facing Aziraphale a little more properly. 

“I didn’t say you were, angel.” Aziraphale huffed indignantly, casting his gaze away from Crowley and focusing instead on a spot on the floor just left of the sofa. 

“You do know your human form makes no difference to me, don’t you? I know when you’re in the room whether you look like this or a young waitress.” Of course Crowley knew that, but he had been hoping that Aziraphale would be so distracted with his friends that he wouldn’t catch on. Still, it wouldn’t be a very convincing rouse if he just gave in the moment he was questioned. 

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” he drawled, melting back against the sofa and reaching for his wine again. Perhaps it was a demonic tendency to make poor choices, but Crowley’s favorite way of dealing with his problems was ignoring them until they went away. 

“Crowley.” Aziraphale’s gaze shifted, landing on Crowley once again, taking a step closer to the sofa. “You very well could have just asked to come along.” Stiffening, Crowley glanced at Aziraphale, swirling his wine slowly and pretending to be focused on watching it. Aziraphale let the silence carry for a long moment before he sighed so heavily Crowley looked to him again, hand stilling. There was another beat of silence, a battle of the wills, and Crowley was the one to break. 

“I don’t think your friends would like me.” He sounded very much like he’d spent the evening sulking, and Aziraphale would’ve known even if he hadn’t seen him doing it with his own two eyes, but he felt a wave of empathy for him at the same time. 

“What kind of company would I keep if they didn’t like you?” Aziraphale made his way over the sofa, his tone softening and arms falling as he came around in front of it. 

“Smart,” Crowley scoffed out, shifting, long legs folding up, one tucking under him and the other bouncing vigorously against the ground, restless. Aziraphale tutted softly, hand coming out to cup Crowley’s jaw, turning his face towards him. 

“And what exactly would that make me, then?” 

“I- You- Aziraphale, you- You’re the smart- Of course you’re-“ Crowley’s floundering was put to a stop by a gentle press of Aziraphale’s lips to his own, rendering him silent and still. 

“I’m not an idiot,” Aziraphale repeated softly. “Next time you’re coming with me whether the coffee is dreadful or not. Now, where is the wine?” Crowley pointed towards the bottle, watching Aziraphale as he went off to miracle himself a glass and fill it up. Despite feeling a bit like an idiot himself, the little kiss he received left Crowley feeling warm and content. Aziraphlae returning a moment later with his own wine glass, nudging Crowley over so he could curl up at his side with his head on his shoulder, well, he couldn’t ask for anything better.

**Author's Note:**

> Idea suggested from tumblr user thybuntcake!!


End file.
